Aphrodite
by PinkWhirlWind
Summary: Weiss has been sent to France for a cool down period and Youji develops a new secret addiction that sets Ken and Aya to being rivals for his heart.
1. Default Chapter

The Goddess of Love

By Nix Winter

Disclaimers: I don't own WK. Na.

This story is a gift fic for Raven! :)

For Raven

The house was two stories, dusty hardwood floors and windows that had probably been washed last before Omi was born. Omi squeezed in behind Aya, moving very close to Ken, to whom he gave an apologetic smile. Aya took a step farther into the place, a red eyebrow arching. The house was nestled between to other houses, a brownstone façade on the front making it look more modern than it obviously once. Manx had said the property had belonged to Kritiker for a 'substantial' period of time.

Youji thought that it had to go all the way the Reformation and if they looked hard enough there'd be a priest skeleton stuck in a hide spot somewhere. "Well, at least we'll know if anyone's been fixing it up for us."

Ken dropped his duffle back, causing a cloud of dust, which set Youji to coughing.

Right then, they all shared a common desire to go home. Tokyo with its familiar places and decent tea appealed to all of them.

"It's not that bad," Omi said moving down the hall to open the first set of double doors. "There's a fire place."

"Good," Aya said, shifting his hold on his bags and taking to the stairs at the back of the hall. "It may not have central heat."

"No central heat?" Youji looked back towards the door, which Ken kicked closed. Youji liked French cigarettes and French wine. Youji liked paying too much money for crepes with chicken in onion sauce. He liked being the only blond for kilometers. He'd been France for nearly four hours by the time he dropped his bag on top of Ken's.

"Hey! Get your bag off mine!" Ken growled, abandoning his bag to being uke to Youji's as he followed Omi down the hall. "You never now what kind of stuff might leak out of yours."

Those had been long four hours. In Japan he had this flavor of who he was and he could smooth any portal for entry, or at least remind himself that he was worth something by trying. That didn't work as well with French that sounded like he was a tourist commercial. He grabbed his bag from on top of Ken's and took for the stairs.

Surprised, Ken moved back down the hall and called after him, "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Youji said, giving Aya a glare to nail home that coffin before it got started. He was fine. The gnawing inadequacy in him was just something he deserved anyway.

"I thought you'd like France," Ken shouted behind him.

There seemed to be six bedrooms on the second floor, each without a bathroom. Old house. Youji nudged one door open with his foot, stood there in the hall as the door opened. Aya had taken the room next over, and for Youji, standing there in the door looking at a room out of a dusty Jane Eyre.

He crossed the room and dropped his bag, green samsonite soft case, on the bed, then regretted it as more dust swirled up. It just summoned a joke, somehow. What did one do with old assassins? Youji stood there by the window, missing his own window from the Koneko. That had been his home for a long time. He laid a hand against the window, finger tips sliding on the white soap smeared to make the windows opaque. Outside the sky cried rain on them, and it just made up for the dryness in Youji's soul. He sought the end of that joke he was trying to make up. What did one do with old assassins? Make them live in haunted houses? Somehow. That wasn't funny.

"Hey," Ken said, leaning in his door, a corduroy casual and happy with it smile on his face. "You okay?"

"Yes," Youji lied, or maybe just it was true, because he was as good as he was ever going to be again. "I'm fine. It's just weird to be here."

"No joke. You want to go shopping with me and Omi?"

Once, Youji would have agreed, gone with them, and enjoyed the sport of tormenting them both as much as possible. Now. He just wanted to be alone. "That's okay, Kenken. Thanks though. I think I just want to settle in on my own for a while."

"You sure? Omi's excited and squealing like a girl." It was a bribe and Youji knew it.

"Have fun." Youji turned back to the window, trying to see the rain from between the smears of soap.

"Yeah. Whatever," Ken said, heading back towards the stairs, "Later!"

A few minutes later, Youji wandered back down the stairs and out into the rain.

Aya watched from a window he'd freed from soap already, watched the rain quickly darken Youji's hair, wet the dark shirt. Aya tilted his head as Youji stood on the corner, waiting for a rainbow maybe. They were in Paris. Aya had expected Youji to like it here, to blossom like a bee in a hothouse. The feeling of confusion around Youji, of hesitation, contaminated Aya too and so they both stood there, waiting for that rainbow.

Whatever rainbow might come with French rain didn't come fast enough. Hands shoved deep into his jeans pockets, Youji moved off into the gray city.

Waiting had never been something that Aya had been good at. It just kind of came to him that there wasn't anything else to do, except wait. Wait for his sister, wait for vengeance, wait for some life on the other side, wait for Youji to come home.

At three in the morning, Aya didn't know why he was up, waiting, cleaning, waiting, practicing, snarling, and then he was home. Youji let himself in, closing the door quietly behind him, shutting out the still falling rain.

Aya moved into the hall, scowling, ready to tear into him. It wasn't that he wanted to hurt him. It wasn't that he didn't like him. It was all the pent up anger inside, all the worry, all the words he couldn't say. And then.

Youji smiled. Aya blinked. Aya froze.

Youji's smile turned into a grin, as he toed his shoes off there by the door, and winked.

Aya scowled, building up steam for the argument he was about to start, but then Youji sprinted past, up the stairs, leaving a trail of wet foot prints. Gone without a word, without a fight, and Aya stood there, fists clenched.

Aya had never seen Youji smile like that. Never.


	2. Two

Aphrodite 2?

by Nix Winter

Disclaimers: I don't own WK. I'm just playing and catching up on my Christmas present to a precious friend.

Youji left the house. He'd been wearing a new black trench coat and a hat. It made Aya's teeth hurt. Youji was sleeping much of the day, getting up around two o'clock everyday and he was smiling almost constantly. He looked... healthier. Aya hadn't seen Youji smoke in over a week and he was dying to know what was going on.

Invading Youji's privacy was not an option, however. France was being good to Aya as well, with books and films, nice cafes and no death. It was amazing how that little detail seemed to make such a big difference.

Not that he didn't miss it just a little. Maybe it was a predatory instinct that once woken didn't really go back to sleep, or maybe it was some other need that he wasn't getting met. He hadn't gone to the Kritiker therapist and he wasn't going to play amateur head shrink. It wasn't really any of his business. If Youji were sleeping with come French woman, reading her children bedtime stories, and moonlighting to may her rent, it was none of Aya's business.

And then Ken went out.

And more than Aya's teeth hurt. Ken had dressed up, tight black jeans, a new leather trench coat, and as the door closed the scent of a new after shave wafted into the study where Aya sat, spicy and sweet. Cheap, Aya thought viciously, turning another page of his book deliberately. The French had no morals. That's what it was. Aya's finger tapped against the corner of his book, and he wanted to know.

He had the sudden flash of seeing Ken pressing Youji up against some damn alley wall, finger sliding through golden hair, lips pressing savagely against Youji's overused lips. And the flash turned into a nuclear explosion when he realized the day dream wasn't about Ken kissing Youji, but about himself kissing Youji. Aya nearly threw the book across the room.

It was just a day dream, some deep seated expression of frustration! "I don't care if you screw each other like fucking French rabbits," he screamed in Japanese. The hall echoed his words. France failed to notice his ire.

Ken had followed Youji the previous night, and the night before. He always went to the same club. It was a big club, sparkling and new. So Ken knew where Youji was going. He figured the older assassin had gotten himself a job there, maybe doing some kind of security. So Ken's curiosity was settled. What Ken wanted now was something very different than just knowing what the hell Youji was up to. He wanted ... wanted something he didn't even know what he wanted, but he was pretty sure Youji was the only one he could go to about this. If anyone in the world would understand, it would be Youji.

So Ken got in line. He'd never waited in line for a super snotty club before in his life. He'd really have rather gone and found a gym or an arcade. And maybe that was part of his problem. He had to grow up a little if he wanted someone to notice him. 'And god,' he thought, while fidgeting in the line, 'Youji was so beautiful. Youji could seduce a republican or an angel, or something'

It was a long wait and it wasn't quiet. He gathered there was a singer from Japan in there, named Xodus. Rumors said that Xodus had just returned from his US tour. That he was on the top 40 charts in Australia. The girl two groups a head of Ken swore she'd gotten his autograph when he was in Sidney. The way she talked, she'd screwed him too and only wished she'd gotten his baby.

Ken shoved his hands down into his pocket. Damn rock stars were like some drug. This crack head probably had slept with Gackt too and Hyde. And Ken fairly hated him before they even got to the door. Security was out in force, prowling the lines, keeping everyone polite, and Ken figured that was what Youji was doing here, free lance security.

Hell, maybe Youji was sleeping with this Xodus creep. Ken blew his breath out slowly. All he really wanted was to talk to Youji for a little while. Without all these crazed people that would have been so much easier. If Youji was sleeping with Xodus that would explain why he kept coming back, and the smiles. Ken suddenly felt shabby, and just taking off for the safe house was looking like a real good deal.

"Ken Hidaka?" A woman asked, her lips as polished as the rest of her, like a black vinyl baretta.

He started, backing away a little. It wasn't that he couldn't defend himself just fine against just about anyone, but she was beautiful in a unisex perfection kind of way and she was smiling at him, knew his name, and part of his mind told him to panic and run. Scwartz could be in France too, for Christ's sake.

She pulled back a little, hands moving apart, palms up. "Was just checking. You match the description."

"I'm Ken," he admitted, "I was looking for a friend. Tall blond Japanese guy. He might be working security."

She smiled and he revised her in his mind from a baretta to a fully on M16a2. "He works here," she agreed, lifting the black velvet rope barrier. "Come on. I'll take you in, Mr. Hidaka."

Only then did he realize that she was speaking English to him, not French. Youji must really have sent her, and that relaxed him a little. So Youji was doing free lance security. It wasn't like they'd been told to play dead, just to lay low for a while.

As they entered the club, the sound washed over him. Loud techno music, a beat picked Ken's blood up a notch and then... a voice that he knew.

The shock was all beyond profanity, and he didn't believe it until he saw it.

His mouth hung open as the vinyl semiautomatic herded him into the club, towards the stairs that lead to the dance floor. The singer was beautiful, wearing black leather pants and a silver half shirt, golden curls, Xodus made love to the microphone and to everyone in the club. He paused there on the stairs, both hands on the railing. Xodus was alive there in the light, a firefly living out a life that couldn't last more than a few nights as best. Ken fell in love then, just like everyone else in the club. Until that moment, he'd never seen Youji fully alive before. And he didn't want it to be true. He didn't want Youji to be pouring song out of his heart like it was the end of the world and he didn't want to have fallen in love a honey colored fire fly either.


End file.
